Hogwarts and Sherlock Holmes: Year One
by Noxlupis Lamiamedicus
Summary: Sherlock Holmes, first year Ravenclaw, meets a first year Gryffindor named John Watson. Their friendship is almost immediate, though unlikely to most. Mysterious death's have been occurring in the walls as well to the upper years. Sherlock's curiosity gets the best of him as they try to track down the killer. Will they catch him before summer vacation? Or will they have to wait?
1. Chapter 1

Sherlock Holmes couldn't sleep. That was the first thing fellow Ravenclaw, Dylan Mack, noticed of the boy as he got up and paced in front of his bed for the third time that night. Dylan himself was never good at sleeping, but he knew when to lie still, unlike the boy next to him.

Without warning, the raven-haired boy was out the door and lightly running down the steps to reach the common room. He'd given up trying to sleep hours ago, and simply needed to get away from the content, sleeping children he shared a room with.

The common room itself was lit with a warm, friendly fire that cast a nice glow over the couches and tables. The statue stood forever silent in the middle of the room, watching. There was a figure lying on the longest couch directly in front of the fire. Silver hair spilled over the side. Sherlock thought he recognized her as Artemis Carter, another first year.

"Good morning Sherlock," the girl greeted, arm slung over her eyes as if she was trying to block out the world. He startled slightly, not expecting the girl to notice his quiet descent. But of course she did, she was in Ravenclaw for a reason.

"Good morning Artemis." He replied curtly, heading towards the door that would lead to the corridor outside. It was about five o' clock by his estimates of the sunrise outside.

"Going somewhere?" The girl sat up and yawned, stretching. She was wearing a simple black T-shirt and black basketball shorts as sleep wear. Her hair, it seemed, was always perfect. Sherlock nodded in her direction before disappearing, not wanting to be questioned further.

They were into their second month of the school year, and the boy had yet to make friends. He made it an early morning ritual to visit his owl, Soot, in the owlery before making an appearance in the Great Hall. Though he never ate, he sat by as Molly Hooper rambled on besides him about a charms lesson, or Dylan would mention something about potions. He didn't really care about any of the conversations they tried to make, but it pleased his _dear _brother for him to at least make an effort.

There were small whispers coming from the room as Sherlock neared it. For a moment, the young boy thought about turning around, going back to his common room and reading some book, but he shook it off and entered, going straight to where Soot stood on a ledge. The whispers had belonged to another first year boy, a Gryffindor. He had strawberry blonde hair and brilliant hazel eyes that turned questioningly to the new boy.

"Oh, um, hi…" he waved awkwardly, scratching a barn owl under the chin and looking at the parchment he held in his hands. Sherlock nodded to him and walked to Soot, who hooted a greeting and held out a leg. There was a letter attached, he assumed from his mum. The Gryffindor boy sighed and rolled his letter up, making sure it was secure before he pushed the bird gently away. "Get on with it Soren, come on." The bird in question flew off into the morning light and the boy turned to look at Sherlock, who was looking over the letter he'd gotten.

Sherlock cursed as he read the letter twice and brought out an owl treat for the ashy colored owl next to him. Soot took it and flew to another perch, hooting in delight. The Ravenclaw boy was in no hurry to return to the common room, however, and stood before the window watching the sun in the distance. The Gryffindor boy cleared his throat rather awkwardly as he watched from the next window, not wanting to go back and listen to Greg complain about Quidditch rules.

Sherlock frowned at him questioningly, slightly annoyed. "I'm…uh, I'm John Watson, first year Gryffindor." The boy stuck out a shaky hand that Sherlock studied for a moment before taking the offered hand.

"Sherlock Holmes, first year Ravenclaw." The other boy relaxed a bit and smiled out at the sunrise.

"It's beautiful is it not?" John asked after a moment, sighing in contentment. Sherlock frowned at the boy. "What?" The Gryffindor asked after a moment, confused.

"Why are you still around? Most people would've left after hearing my name."

John blinked, frowning at the other boy. "Why would they do that?"

Sherlock shrugged. "Because I'm a freak."

John studied the boy and shook his head. He was pale, already getting to a considerably tall height, and real lanky. Somehow he made it graceful when he walked, though John thought he could see a bone or two protruding from the taunt skin around his belly. The raven, curly hair sat atop his head, mused and sticking every direction. His eyes, blue/gray from what John could see, shone with intelligence. They looked to be studying him as well, tearing him down until his whole life was displayed before him. He didn't look like a freak to John, just a kid in bad need of a good meal and good night's rest.

"You don't look like a freak to me," he commented, watching the boy's eyes alight with curiosity. "Why would they call you a freak?"

"Because I can tell you your whole life story just by a few seconds of looking at you." The boy replied, rather proudly. John smirked.

"Let's see it then." Sherlock's eyes widened and his frown came back. Nobody ever wanted to hear him deduce their life unless they wanted to make fun of him. But Sherlock Holmes never backed down from a challenge.

"Very well. You're a muggle-born, obvious by the way you dress. Before this year you scoffed at the idea of magic. You have an older brother, someone you won't talk to. Perhaps because he's annoying, or maybe it's his drinking habit. Your dad is a drunk, and a mean one at that, so you constantly worry about your mum. You fell out of a tree when you were nine, resulting in a broken leg and a psychosomatic limp. You have nightmares every night. Your father called you a freak and kicked you out of the house when he learned of your ability, so you are, at the moment, without a home." The Ravenclaw stepped back, smirking as a shocked look came over John's face.

"How?" He asked simply, staring at the boy in amazement.

"I simply observe John." Sherlock replied.

"That was…amazing! Brilliant!" John suddenly shot out, staring at Sherlock with kind eyes. Sherlock frowned.

"You really think so?" John nodded his head at a mile a minute. "That's not what people normally say."

"What do they normally say?"

"Piss off." The boys cut off into laughter and Sherlock found he genuinely made a friend in the Gryffindor boy. He was about to point out as much when John glanced down at his watch and yelped.

"It's almost time for the first lesson!" Sherlock frowned down at his own watch and sighed.

"Guess I'll head out to my potions class."

"I got transfiguration." John made a face and Sherlock laughed. "Meet up for lunch? You could come sit at the Gryffindor table I'm sure." He pointed out, smiling. Sherlock frowned and shrugged, nodding.

"See you at lunch John."

Sherlock sat in his seat during his Defense class, his leg hammering up and down. His fingers tapped against his book as he listened rather impatiently to the professor. This was the class right before he would be going to lunch, and he felt anxious to talk to John again. John, the only kid that ever told him his deductions were brilliant. He wanted to talk to his friend again and make sure it wasn't all a joke.

Artemis noted his behavior with a small smile. "Someone's ready for lunch." She commented, leaning forward in her seat slightly. "You're never ready for lunch. Make a new friend did we?"

Sherlock nodded back to her, his attention solely focused on making it through the lesson. Dylan, sitting next to him, smiled knowingly at Artemis, who winked at him and sat back, closing her eyes and humming softly as they continued with the talk about the spell. The minutes ticked slowly by and Sherlock groaned when the teacher proceeded to tell the students to practice the spell. He absent-mindedly flicked the wand and managed the spell with great ease. Everybody gaped at him and he heard several mutters of 'freak' ring around the room. He paid them no mind and continued to impatiently wait for lunch.

When class was finally over, Sherlock hung back, biting his lip as his classmates spilled out to run to the Great Hall. He knew nothing of how friendships worked, and also whether John would still want to be his friend. Surely the Gryffindor had heard the stories about him and decided he really was a freak.

As Sherlock walked out of the classroom, head hanging low and mentally cursing himself, he felt a body smack into him and turned to find John in a pile of the floor, looking up at him with a faint smile. "You know, for a lanky kid such as yourself, you sure are like a brick wall when it comes to running into you." The Gryffindor boy muttered, getting up. Sherlock smiled awkwardly.

"Made a new friend have we Sherlock?" A snide voice came from around the corner. The Ravenclaw sighed and muttered something, turning to face his older brother with a haughty glare. John bit his lip and looked up at the older boy with some fascination.

Mycroft Holmes ran a hand through his ginger hair and glared at his brother. He wore similar robes to his brother, with some kind of badge pinned to the front next to the Ravenclaw symbol. "Mummy and Daddy would be quite disappointed to know you made friends with a Gryffindor."

"Who cares Mycroft!" Sherlock threw his hands in the air but his gaze didn't waver. John was suddenly starting to feel very uncomfortable between the siblings. "You're starting to sound like those bloody Slytherins." He glared, turning to John. "We must be going, I'll see you later _brother._" He snarled as he stomped off, anger clear in his icy eyes. John glared at the older Holmes before following after Sherlock.

They ended up with the owls again, Sherlock grumbling the entire time. John followed without a word, mind still reeling from the encounter. His owl waited on the sill, wide eyes staring at his young companion. Soren stuck out his leg and rubbed his head against John as the boy took the letter and fed him.

"You followed me…" Sherlock muttered, eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

"Well…that's what friends do, they stick by each other. And that encounter obviously upset you." John stated simply, watching Sherlock with wide eyes. _Does he really not know what friendship is? _He asked himself, waiting for the Ravenclaw to reply.

"Oh…I wouldn't know." Sherlock lifted his icy eyes to study the boy before him. "Friends? Surely you've heard the stories about me."

"Oh yes, of course I have. I don't believe any of it." John crossed his arms, leaning against the ledge carefully. _Why would I believe such ridiculous lies anyway? _He didn't understand his classmate's aversion to him. Even the Slytherins stayed well away.

"That's a first…" Sherlock muttered, more to himself. "Well…what else do friends do?" He was curious. Nobody ever wanted to be his friend. Good reason he supposed.

John shrugged, studying the boy before him. "Hang out. You've seriously never had a friend before?" Sherlock shook his head, looking down and away. That stunned the Gryffindor. He was used to having friends, having been a well liked child back in primary school. He'd never met anyone who had never had a friend.

"I know…it's weird. I'm avoided constantly, always have been." Sherlock shrugged, as if it didn't matter, but John caught the glimmer of hurt in his beautiful eyes.

"You can call me a friend. I won't avoid you." John offered, smiling at him. Sherlock looked up, stunned into silence before nodding.

"Yea…okay. That sounds…good." He smiled faintly and watched kids below him for a minute. "I suppose you are hungry then?" Sherlock smiled in his direction. John laughed as his stomach growled, shaking his head.

"A bit, yea. Skipped breakfast this morning you know."

"Do you…do you think it'd be alright if I sat by you?" He looked uncertainly at John, biting his lip.

"Of course! I would love it actually. Maybe Greg will shut up about Quidditch." John laughed, heading towards the door. "And I'm sure the professors wouldn't mind. Not that you'd care eh?"

"No, I really wouldn't. Greg Lestrade? He went to my primary school…" Sherlock trailed off, eyes downcast as he remembered his years before Hogwarts. "He never joined in on the teasing, but he never tried to be my friend either." He added after a while, following John down to the Great Hall.


	2. Chapter 2

It was times like this Sherlock felt inadequate. He walked with John through the halls, lost in thought, as his new friend led the way to the Great Hall. He felt all eyes on them as they entered. The Ravenclaws were staring at him in confusion as he followed the Gryffindor to his table. His classmates stared at the tall boy, open-mouthed. All Sherlock wanted to do in that moment was hide. He hated attention, though he craved to be praised. Odd combination he supposed.

"Afternoon Greg." John greeted as he sat down, seemingly oblivious to the silence that had overtaken the room.

"Afternoon." Greg coughed out after a bit, smiling slightly at John. "Hello Sherlock. Been a while." Sherlock nodded in greeting, sitting down and studying the table. "Right. Well. How's that Charms assignment John?" Greg asked, glancing curiously at the Ravenclaw.

"Honestly? Dreadful." John sighed, glaring at his oak wand as he pulled it out. "I don't know what I'm doing wrong honestly."

"I hear there's a kid in her class that got it on the first try! He wasn't even paying attention." A first year named Apollo muttered, glancing over at the Ravenclaw as he took his seat next to Greg.

"I could teach you how to do it." Sherlock offered, looking at John with a small smile. "I would be that kid. It's not that hard. Just getting the wand movement really." Apollo stared at him.

"Who are you?" The golden haired kid asked, eyes wide.

"Sherlock Holmes, Ravenclaw." The boy tugged at his raven-black hair uneasily.

"Apollo Carter," the boy smiled slightly. "Your brother is Mycroft right?"

"Yes." Sherlock uttered, eyes flashing with anger. "You have a twin named Artemis, correct?" Apollo bit his lip and nodded, looking down.

"Calm down Sherlock." John whispered, pumpkin juice dripping down his chin. The other boy looked at his friend and sighed, visibly calming himself as Professor McGonagall approached.

"Mr. Holmes, as I'm sure you're aware, this is the Gryffindor table. We do not allow the houses to mix during lunchtime. So if you will kindly move to your table, we would appreciate it." The transfigurations teacher stood there, waiting for Sherlock's reply.

"And if I do not?" Sherlock asked her quietly, staring up with expressionless eyes.

"You will be served with detention and further warnings to sit at your own table." The professor glared over her nose at the young boy.

"That's hardly fair Professor! He's not bothering anybody!" John protested, turning around to face the teacher.

"That's not the point Mr. Watson. Mr. Holmes, get back to your table." The professor was getting angry now.

"No." Sherlock stated, turning back around. John stared at him, shocked. Greg and Apollo looked like they wanted to shrink away with fear. The professor was flabbergasted, to say the least. No child had ever told her no.

"Mr. Holmes, I'm giving you one last chance to move to your table."

"No. Why should I sit with my house? If Hogwarts is all about unity, then why should it matter that I would like to sit with my friends at another house table? The whole house thing is ridiculous anyway." Sherlock dismissed her with a wave.

"I look forward to seeing you in detention. Fifty points from Ravenclaw." Her voice boomed around the hall. Several Slytherin's sniggered, and Sherlock was sure he caught a few glares from his house.

"Sherlock's right. The whole house thing is ridiculous." John muttered, loud enough Professor McGonagall heard.

"Mr. Watson! How dare you say that! Detention, ten points from Gryffindor." The rest of the table groaned and shot glares at John. The Slytherins laughed and high-fived each other.

Sherlock raised an eyebrow. "Why'd you do that?"

"Who wants to be stuck in detention alone? Plus, that was downright stupid."

"I'll just continue to sit here until she decides to leave it. Or you could come sit at the Ravenclaw table." Sherlock smirked, playing with an apple. "I suppose it's time for next lesson. See you around John." He stood up and walked out, apple in his pocket, as he made his way outside for flying lessons.

One boring lesson and a crash later, Sherlock was reclining back in a chair in the transfiguration room, apple being tossed into the air. Professor McGonagall stood at the front of the room, glaring out of her glasses at the young Ravenclaw as John slowly made his way in.

"Welcome to detention you two. Now, no talking, no passing notes. If I even hear a whisper, you will be punished more." With that, she sat down and set about grading some quiz she'd given earlier in the week. Sherlock twirled his wand and entertained the idea of zapping the professor, before catching John shaking his head. He sighed and looked at his potions homework instead, glaring at the paper.

Ten minutes passed in complete silence, and the young Ravenclaw felt himself going mad with boredom. A knock at the classroom door caused both boys to look up, though they quickly turned their attention with Professor Slughorn walked in. "Oh, Minevera. It's terrible! There's been another one!" The potions professor wailed, tears dripping down his face.

"Who?" McGonagall asked, eyes wide with fear.

"Cass Frankie, seventh year Hufflepuff. Found in the greenhouse. Stabbed." Sherlock looked up, a curious expression crossing his face. John noticed and frowned as the professors stepped outside.

"Fourth one in two weeks. Interesting…" Sherlock muttered, opening a scroll, his features focused and attentive.

"What?" John asked him, moving so he could see the names.

"Karlee Reyes, sixth year Gryffindor. Brently Adair, fifth year Ravenclaw. Lucius Gratiss, seventh year Slytherin. And finally, Cass Frankie, seventh year Hufflepuff. Each one stabbed and found in the greenhouses. All connected obviously. Each one was a prefect, had no reason to be in the greenhouse, and top in their classes. None of the victims knew each other, nor were there any defense wounds. Knew the killer."

"Hang on." John put a hand on the Ravenclaw's shoulder. "You've researched this then? How did you get this information?"

Sherlock smiled widely, tapping his fingers. "Having an older brother comes with benefits young John. And yes, I'm very interested. Quite an interesting case. I was hoping I could see the bodies, but that can't be arranged so I settle for pictures Mycroft manages to get. Photographer is a bloody idiot and doesn't get everything." He growled in frustration as he turned to study the photos of the other bodies. John leaned over his shoulder and studied them as well.

"This is your idea of a hobby then?" John asked curiously, picking up a picture for closer inspection. Sherlock hummed in response, digging around until he came up with a quill for writing.

"You two! Detention done. Go back to your dorms and stay there!" The professor shouted at them from the door, looking distraught. Sherlock frowned and got up, shoving everything into his bag and smiling a little at the potions professor as he waited for John to catch up.

"I would love the chance to get to see the greenhouse." John muttered as they walked, lost in thought. Sherlock looked at him, slightly surprised.

"We should." _Odd, I can never guess his next move. _

John looked at him, wide-eyed. "How?"

Sherlock smiled knowingly and set a brisk pace down the hall to the prefects' dorm, where his brother would likely be hiding. "Meet me in the owlrey at ten tonight. Tell no one. See you there!" He disappeared around the corner as John stared after him, fascinated and confused.

"So…Sherlock Holmes then?" Greg Lestrade asked as soon as John had trudged to the common room.

"Hm? Oh yes. Odd bloke. He's nice enough, though he lacks social skills…" John trailed off with a shrug, throwing himself down on the comfortable couch. "Says he knew you in primary school."

"Yes. We were in the same class. He was always a bit of an outcast. The kids around me called him a freak because he 'deducted' as he called it. He had an overbearing brother, father who paid little attention to him and I've no idea about his mum. His first few attempts at making friends failed…and it wasn't his fault. The other kids just didn't understand him I suppose. Hell, I sure didn't." Greg rambled, lost in thought. "Good for you mate. Not many kids could be around him by the end of first year. He'd learned quickly to close himself off. And he's an arrogant sod." The other boy laughed at this.

"Why does everybody hate him?" John asked curiously.

Greg sighed and looked over at him. "Probably because they're threatened by his intelligence. He argued with a teacher the first day of school. Who would do that? He was raised in a rich, pureblood family. Able to afford the best of the best. Nobody quite understands why he refuses to act like a rich kid. And he's…I dunno mate…scarred after the childhood bullying? He normally doesn't let anyone in, thinks we're all idiots."

John tapped his chin thoughtfully. "Maybe he just needed someone to actually try to be his friend and not run when he made his deductions?"

"Perhaps. I don't have the patience. But I feel for him." John watched Greg as he trudged up the stairs, chewing his cheek in quiet contemplation. The common room was empty of all life, though the fire crackled and hissed to fill the silence. He'd basically befriend a bullied child, and the thought made the boy smile. Though John worried about the rest of the things Greg had mentioned. He didn't understand why his 'deductions' would scare people. They were brilliant and amazing!

John left the common room fifteen before ten, weaving his way through the passageways quietly. There had been no sign of anything other than the occasional painting moving, or the ghost passing through the walls. It was curfew yet, but it was damn close, and John was suddenly worried that he'd let Sherlock drag him into more trouble.

"Ah, good evening John." Sherlock greeted, eyes shining in the soft moonlight. He had thrown on a black coat and wrapped a scarf around his neck. John looked down at his own school robes and normal, street clothes and sighed as he realized it would be slightly cold. "You will be fine. It's not cold really. I just don't like leaving without this." Sherlock shoved his hands in the coat's pockets and watched as his owl, Soot, came flying through the window.

"Right…" John stepped forward, standing next to Sherlock with a curious look on his face. The owl hooted and flew away, diving into the night air without another thought. Sherlock studied a piece of parchment before turning to his new friend and smiling.

"Down to the greenhouse then?" John smiled in return and followed the taller Ravenclaw out of the tower and through the abandoned hallways. The night air hit his exposed face and neck and the Gryffindor felt himself shiver. "Here." Sherlock smiled softly as he stripped off his scarf and wrapped it gently around his friend's neck.

"Um…thanks." John smiled back and him and started towards the greenhouse, blue eyes roaming over the darkened grounds. Sherlock followed after, casting glances behind into the shadows surrounding the dimly lit castle. His eyes narrowed in thought as they walked slowly towards their destination, footfalls quiet and muffled in the wet grass.

"Real crime scene tape?" John chuckled, studying the yellow tape with large, black letters that covered the area around the greenhouse.

"Yes. What did you expect?" Sherlock asked the Gryffindor, raising an eyebrow curiously.

"I dunno, something…magical? We use this stuff in the muggle world all the time!" Tears were being squeezed out of his eyes as he stared at the tape.

"Well…there are charms placed as well." Sherlock frowned as he concentrated, closing his eyes and moving his wand in quick flicks and swishes before smiling at John and opening the door. The Gryffindor blinked in amazement and cast a quick glance around the grounds again. A shadow darted against the moonlight background and was gone in the blink of an eye. John frowned and followed his Ravenclaw friend into the greenhouse, shutting the door behind him.


	3. Chapter 3

"Of course…" Sherlock sighed as he spotted the blood, glaring as if it personally offended him. "They would move the body, despite my brother trying to stop them…" He lost his train of thought as John moved to stand next to him, eyes wide and curious. There was a chalk outline draw on the floor where the girl's body was presumably found. The blood was soaked into the stone and dried to a flaking brown. Never before had the young Gryffindor seen that much blood at once, and his inside suddenly twisted as he thought about the poor girl having to die alone.

"Oh my God…" John muttered as he took in the sight of the blood written words on the nearest wall. "_To each their own, their world is vain. They hold the power, but, alas, it is abused. They think them friends, they would be wrong. Each deserves it, and they will continue. Prepare." _A shiver ran down his spine as he read the brown letters.

"Well…that's new." Sherlock muttered as he glanced over the note again and again, trying to decipher it's meaning.

"…Did they forget to cast the spells?" Professor Olwick's voice echoed from outside, startling the Gryffindor.

"Sherlock." John tugged on the taller boy's coat and glanced nervously towards the door. Another professor's voice was heard, and then a shout of alarm as they realized the wards had been taken down. The Ravenclaw sent an annoyed look at the door and grabbed John's hand, tugging him deeper into the greenhouse, past a vine-like plant and out a hidden window.

"Oi. Glad no one saw us." John gasped, glancing back at the greenhouse.

"Getting caught isn't bad." Sherlock snorted, dropping his friend's hand as he filed away information in his mind palace. John chuckled and stretched. A yawn emerged from his throat as he opened his mouth to speak once more. "Tired? You should get to bed." Sherlock smiled at him and moved towards the castle.

"Oh…you should too." John moved to catch up, his shorter legs being a disadvantage. "Classes and all that tomorrow." Sherlock nodded as if in agreement and turned to face his new friend before striding into the castle.

"Goodnight young John. See you tomorrow." He nodded a bit before turning on his heel and disappearing into the depths of their massive home. John nodded to him and made his way carefully back to the common room, mind puzzling out the events of the night. The rest of his housemates had long gone to bed, though the boy stayed awake until the early morning rays reached through the window.

The next several weeks passed without another incident. Sherlock continued to sit at the Gryffindor table, and each time, was thrown into detention with John following behind. They both thought it ridiculous. John even tried sitting at the Ravenclaw table, in which the head of house merely smiled warmly at him and the other kids welcomed him with open arms.

"So…let me get this straight. You honestly wrestled with a wolf just for the hell of it?" Dylan asked Artemis one day, trying to bite back laughter. The girl nodded her head, chewing on a piece of chicken thoughtfully.

"I mean, I was gentle. My poor baby didn't know what she was getting into. She started it of course." Artemis muttered, smiling and laughing with Dylan. John was getting more amused with the conversation by the minute, happily eating mashed potatoes. Even Sherlock was amused with his housemates for once.

"Brother dear." Mycroft's snide voice was right behind John, making the young Gryffindor jump in surprise. He was sitting across from Sherlock, next to Dylan with another girl named Molly to his right. Artemis was sitting next to Sherlock, directly in front of Dylan.

"Mycroft." Sherlock mimicked his kind tone and glared over John's head. Artemis and Dylan kept their mouths pressed in thin lines and shot looks between the two brothers. John turned slightly in his seat to glare at the older Ravenclaw.

"It must please you to know that there have been three more in the last weeks. Here are the documents. This time my superiors are allowing you into the crime scene as soon as it happens. We want this done and over with, you hear me _brother?_" Mycroft sneered, handing over several parchments and photographs. Sherlock merely raised an eyebrow and looked over the photos.

"Interesting. The Merlin Recruits hm? That's what these kids were apart of?" His eyes raised to his brother once more, eyes glinting with sharp curiosity.

"It appears so." Mycroft replied grimly, rubbing his eyes. It was his job to keep it quiet, but by now, older students feared for their lives, some even stayed in their rooms. He was at a loss at what to do. Sherlock nodded and showed some of the parchment to John, attention on the reports and pictures before him.

"Very good. Come along John, we have work to do." The Ravenclaw stood up, sorting through parchment and getting everything in order before waiting for his friend. The Gryffindor looked between the brothers and nodded as well, standing up and following the taller boy out of the Great Hall and to the astronomy tower.

Sherlock was pacing restlessly as he tried to figure the puzzle out. "Merlin's Recruits…I remember learning about them when I was a small child. Father would tell me they were the bane of evil. Apparently they were a group of older students that met every week or so and would practice dark magic. Rituals and the like, stuff they no longer taught in school, or even spoke about really. The original founders never intended it to be a dark magic practice, merely one of advanced spells that the school could no longer teach. Of course, the original founders are long since dead. But who is leading now…" He trailed off in thought as John tried taking all the information in.

"I thought only Slytherins practiced any form of dark magic." John swallowed loudly, looking anywhere but at his friend.

"Oh, dear John, dark magic can be practiced by anybody. Though generally you do see more of it with the Slytherins."

"Why is the school letting them have this club anyway?" John asked, finally looking up with fearful eyes. "Wouldn't they put a stop to it?"

"Not if they don't know what's going on. The club generally passes themselves off as harmless. A study group if you will. Fifth year is the deciding year to join, and the school never suspects young students to get their hands on the knowledge they do. Any claim against them is investigated, turned out phony, and the accuser is punished by the club for ratting them out." He sighed and clasped his hands together, staring at John. "I forget you didn't grow up in our world. Which reminds me. My mother has offered you a room at our house over the breaks. Seems Mycroft told on me and Mum thought you would be delightfully interesting to have around the house. Dad isn't so pleased." Sherlock scoffed at this, turning around again as his owl landed on the sill.

"Really?" John asked, turning his head slightly to the side. Christmas break was only a few weeks away, and he'd planned on staying at the castle. Summer was more what he was worried about.

"Yes. Though she isn't expecting me back for Christmas. How I despise the holiday." There was an icy and far off look in Sherlock's eyes as he spoke about one of John's favorite holidays.

"Why's that?" The Gryffindor ventured quietly, staring at his friend with open curiosity.

"Story for another time John. But-"

"SHERLY!" A voice bellowed, followed by two older Hufflepuffs. The snide look on the boy, his black hair slicked back and looking greasy gave John an uneasy feeling. The girl standing next to him with caramel skin smirked at the Ravenclaw and stood next to the boy.

"Anderson. Donovan." Sherlock quipped back, glaring at the both of them.

"Who's this then? Your boyfriend?" Anderson commented, turning his gaze to John, who straightened up and glared at the older boy.

"I'm not gay." He muttered defensively.

"You're something to hang around Freak." Sally commented as she tossed curly, black hair over her shoulder.

"He's not a freak!" John almost shouted, hands curled into tight fists. A glint of the prefect badge he'd seen Sherlock's brother wearing earlier caught John's eye and he shook his head. "Who's stupid enough to make you a prefect?"

Sally turned her cold eyes on the young Gryffindor and snorted. "You're a bit of a shrimp to be talking to older students like that aren't you?"

"Be careful Sally, could get caught harassing first years that aren't even in your house." Sherlock stated coldly, petting his ash-colored owl and glaring at the two Hufflepuffs.

Sally puffed up, eyes glaring dagger-like into the first year at the sill. Anderson was looking between the two boys with a slight smirk. "Have fun with your boyfriend Sherlock, the headmaster will be sure to know." He winked and walked out, Sally trailing behind.

Sherlock rolled his eyes and turned back to the owl, staring over the grounds with a thoughtful frown gracing his lips. John watched the door a moment longer before moving closer to his friend and placing a hand on his shoulder. "Is that normal?" The Ravenclaw glanced sideways at his companion and nodded, sighing. "That's ridiculous! Why would you let them call you such nasty names and bully you like that?" The young Gryffindor's fist clenched again as he took deep breaths to calm himself.

Sherlock watched him curiously, head turned to the side and eyes roaming over his friend as John's anger melted away. "Why do you care?" His voice was soft, quiet, and confused. John took a moment to collect his thoughts before carefully speaking up.

"Because you're not a freak. You're bloody brilliant, a git occasionally, stubborn and a bit on the insane side, but not a freak. You're unique, different. Why should you have to go through such harsh treatment for being yourself? I care about you, you are my best friend after all. It bothers me that they'd say such things, like you're not even human." He stood up straight and looked his friend in the eyes, biting his cheek.

Sherlock cocked his head again and studied his friend. "It's not like it bothers me John. They're idiots anyway."

"How did you even meet them?" John hesitated in asking, hand patting Sherlock's shoulder.

"My brother introduced me to them after another unsuccessful attempt at me getting friends. He thought they'd be good, influential company." Hate seethed into his tone as Sherlock thought of Mycroft. His brother was always on his case about making friends, and he wasn't sure why. Sherlock was perfectly happy on his own. "Alone is what I have, alone protects me."

"What?" John frowned at his friend.

"Oh, did I say that out loud?" Sherlock frowned at the thoughts swirling around his massive brain and sighed, looking over the grounds again. The shadows were starting to draw long on the grass as the sun started to set, giving the sky a beautiful tint of pink, orange and red. Hogwarts had started lighting the fires in the braziers and the soft glow around the castle was welcomed by many. Pretty soon the students would be heading to their beds for the night, and the snow would start falling.

"Sherlock, do you see that?" John pointed to a student gliding over the frozen ground, casting eyes around him every few seconds. The Ravenclaw mapped out his precise map and gasped when he realized the boy was heading to the greenhouses. He turned on his heel quickly, adrenaline pumping through his veins. John stood a moment longer, watching as another, smaller and lean looking figure darted after the student, making zig zags to different hiding spots. He was down and caught up with his best friend in the space of a heartbeat.


	4. Chapter 4

The grass was wet and slippery beneath the boys' feet as they pursued after the two figures. Feet sank into mud, then were ripped back out to throw arches of mud onto their robes. Their minds were narrowly focused on the lithe figure ahead of them. The figure jumped, ducked and crawled, reaching the greenhouse in less than five seconds from the doors. John swallowed his breath once again, panting heavily as Sherlock finally stopped, sinking into the shadows. A hand was slapped over John's mouth and he swore quietly, trying to get his breath back.

The Gryffindor jumped as a scream pierced the cold air. His breathing fogged as he stared at the Ravenclaw with wide-eyes. Another scream, higher in pitch and much more desperate ripped through him and John felt his mouth go dry. He wanted to scramble towards the noise and stop what was happening, or run the opposite direction and forget the dying screeches of the boy inside the greenhouse. He bit his lip, forcefully standing still, until the screams became whimpers, and were lost to the wind.

Sherlock tilted his head and watched as the lithe figure darted from the greenhouse again, moving much faster than before. He debated quietly before moving closer to the greenhouse, stepping up carefully to the murderer's point of entry. "Go get a teacher, and hurry." He whispered to his companion, who looked up with a frown before nodding and running off. Worry for John crossed Sherlock's mind as he watched his companion disappear, but he pushed it to the side as he stared at the mangled body in front of him. The boy was still breathing, panting heavily, eyes glazed over with pain, but still breathing. Alive for now.

"Who did this to you?" Sherlock knelt by the Hufflepuff, eyes cold and distant. The boy's green eyes focused on the Ravenclaw briefly before whispering a name Sherlock had only heard in passing.

"Blair Michales." Even the Ravenclaw knew of the notorious Slytherin girl, a sixth year who was actually quite vicious. Even the other Slytherin's were scared of her. Sherlock had never met the girl himself, not that he wasn't curious. The Ravenclaw wasn't sociable by any means however. He sighed and sat back on his heels, staring at the body with sharp eyes. The boy had stopped breathing. Sherlock had known the damage inflicted on his torso was too much, and he felt nothing. Why should he? He didn't know the Hufflepuff, so what was the point of being sad about it?

The door burst open on a winded professor that gaped when he noticed the young Ravenclaw casting curious glances at the wounds. John followed timidly behind him, biting his lip as he noticed Sherlock studying a particularly deep gash that ran from his right collarbone to his left hip. An auror sighed as he came in behind both of them. Sherlock looked up then, sharp blue eyes learning everything possible about the auror before him.

The green eyed, black haired auror frowned and held out a hand for the first year to shake. "Scar, David Scar." Sherlock stood and moved forward, a smirk on his lips.

"David Scar, head auror, wife and three children at home. Your job wears you out, so you pay little attention to your family, they feel neglected. Marital troubles. You're ready for this case to be done. It hurts to see young kids murdered in such a way. You were once part of the Merlin Recruits. In fact, you were once a leader. Seven years ago?" He nodded as he continued to watch the auror. "You'll find, Mr. Scar, that the boy was of course stabbed and cut to death, just like the others. Look for a message on the wall and immediately contact me when you find it. I believe it's time John and I retired to our common rooms. Goodnight Auror, Professor Green." Sherlock nodded and moved around the stunned look of the auror and professor and out into the chilly air, John following closely behind.

"How did you know all that?" John asked curiously as Sherlock lead the way to the library.

"I just observed John." Sherlock responded, looking back at his companion with amusement. The Gryffidor shook his head and laughed. Several students looked at them curiously, some hiding hands over their mouths as they whispered. Sherlock had no doubt what they were talking about, since he'd heard the rumor ages ago, but he felt bad for his companion, who he was sure hadn't. _That's new…_The Ravenclaw frowned to himself, biting his lip as they moved deeper into the library.

"What're they whispering?" John asked, casting looks around to his fellow Gryffindors.

"Just a rumor mate." Greg Lestrade muttered as he approached the pair, smiling uneasily.

"Nothing to be really concerned with John." Sherlock added, grabbing several books and stacking them on a nearby table. Greg bit his lip and nodded, watching Sherlock with weariness and curiosity.

"What is it?" The Gryffindor wouldn't let it go. He was far too curious.

"Well, everybody seems to believe you and Sherlock are together." The other Gryffindor replied, once again biting his lip as he turned to his friend.

"Oh…" John blinked and frowned. "I'm not gay!" He glared over at the nearest Hufflepuff, who just raised an eyebrow and laughed. Sherlock watched with amusement and shrugged when John's gaze shifted to him.

"Who cares what they think John?" Sherlock asked him, not hiding his amusement. John sighed and dragged his fingers through his hair before turning to the books his friend had piled on the table.

"What are we looking for anyway?"

"Anything pertaining to the Merlin Recruits."

John sighed and set to work, flipping through book after book until the light around the castle had all but disappeared and his eyes felt heavy.

Everything was starting to blur for the Gryffindor boy as the auror came running in, his mouth set in a grim line. His head rested on his arms of his own accord as Sherlock spoke quietly to the auror. _Just a quick nap…_and his mind shut off, getting amused glances from Greg and Sherlock as they continued to work.

John's head shot up as a cool hand pressed into his back and he realized the lights in the library had gotten extremely dim, and Sherlock's shadow was standing beside him. He rubbed at his eyes and looked around, frowning. He hadn't meant to actually sleep, and he suddenly felt bad. "Let's get you back to the dormitory hm?" Sherlock asked gently, smiling down at his companion. John nodded reluctantly and leaned into his friend as they walked out. The hallways were vacant save a few wizards, who were running to their dorms and staring at the pair as they passed. The Gryffindor was too tired to bother to glare at their whispered assumptions. "Goodnight John." And like that, Sherlock was gone, ghosting through shadows that John's tired eyes couldn't track.

"What are you doing for Christmas then John?" Artemis asked, leaning forward on her elbows, looking over at the Gryffindor with bright eyes. Her long, silver hair was braided back, thanks to Molly, who was sitting quietly, casting glances at Sherlock every few seconds.

John looked up from his food with wide eyes, caught off-guard. The break was to begin as soon as classes were over today, thankfully. Even the staff seemed more relaxed then usual, which was making for bright, happy conversations at the breakfast tables. "Oh, um, just staying here I suppose." He muttered vaguely. Artemis looked amused by this, but didn't comment any more as Sherlock drew her into a conversation about the potions homework they had.

"Artemis!" Apollo slid into a seat on the other side of Sherlock, smiling at his fellow Gryffindor and sister. "Mum said she'll be here to collect us as soon as your transfiguration class is finished. Are you packed?" The boy's golden blonde hair was slightly mused, most likely from where the older Gryffindor's had fluffed at it earlier.

"Of course Brother. You sound about as bad as Ares when underestimating my packing abilities." Artemis answered in a condescending tone. Apollo rolled his eyes but joined Greg as the Gryffindor table once again.

"Ares?" John questioned, cocking his head to the side curiously.

"Older brother. My parents are insane about Greek mythology. I've got a younger sister named Athena. Ares graduated last year, he was a Slytherin. Annoyingly so anyway." She rolled her eyes and rested her head on the desk before her. She hadn't bothered to get any food. Dylan and Molly were digging in earnestly, but Sherlock and Artemis were just sitting there. John wondered, not for the first time, why his companion never ate.

"Attention students!" The headmaster tapped his want on the podium and all eyes focused immediately to the front. Conversation died down slowly. "Classes for today have been cancelled. In light of a festive spirit. Please enjoy your break! We will see you in three weeks time!" And with that, all the students were dismissed. Many made break for the doors immediately, chattering with their siblings and friends, while others hung back and watched with a mixture of expressions.

"I'll send Mummy your regards." Mycroft commented dryly as he passed the three still seated at the Ravenclaw table. Students of varying ages were spread across the tables, enough they could squeeze into one table with room to spare. Sherlock merely nodded at his brother and went back to his pensive thinking, eyes glazed as he traveled the corridors of his 'mind palace.'

"That's not why they started it early." He murmured after a while, catching Dylan and John off-guard. John looked at him with wide eyes. Too many surprises in one day could stop the young heart.

"Another one?" He whispered back, casting a curious look towards Dylan.

"And the murderer is still here." He indicated a girl sitting on her own at the Slytherin table. She looked to be a sixth year, in the eyes of the three eleven-year-olds. She was glaring at the table with such malice that John was afraid it would catch on fire.

"Who is that?" Dylan piped up, staring at the girl. She was short and extremely thin for someone her age. Her blonde hair was pulled into a ponytail. She had emerald green eyes that burned like fire. She looked up suddenly and flashed her teeth in a snarl, displaying sharpened fangs that scared the living daylights out of Dylan.

"Blair Michales." Sherlock commented, matching her snarl with a bland look of his own. She looked away after a moment, focusing on another approaching figure that John recognized as Alison Lestrange, first year Slytherin. Nobody knew her lineage, but the rumor was she was related to Bellatrix, famous for torture and notorious pureblood lover. John wasn't sure what to think of Alison however. She was cold, but only to a point. Though it was obvious about her disdain for muggleborns, she never showed outright violence towards most of them.

"That's Ali, talking to Blair…" Dylan frowned, getting up to approach the girl as she walked away. Her brown hair swayed slightly side to side, and her brown eyes looked at the Ravenclaw with slight weariness. Sherlock, quiet through most of it, was staring again in the direction of Blair, who was carving into the table with her wand.

"What are you thinking about Sher?" John asked him, biting his bottom lip.

"Maybe it's time we made some more friends." The Ravenclaw stood up, waiting patiently (as patiently as a sociopathic, eleven-year-old genius could wait anyway) for John to join him. The Gryffindor followed his best friend and smiled at Dylan timidly. Alison was glaring at the both of them, weariness and anger still evident in her chocolate brown eyes.

"Uh, Ali, this is Sherlock Holmes and John Watson." Dylan waved at them vaguely, biting his lip and looking anywhere but at his classmates.

"Holmes. Didn't figure one would hang with a muggleborn." Her voice was full of malice. John looked down, slightly hurt. Most Slytherins were like that, judging based on blood. Sherlock, child one of the purest families out there, didn't see the big deal. But, then again, he didn't see the big deal about being a pureblood either. He'd taken a special liking to muggle science, muggle crimes and the like. The wizard world bored him to great extent.

Sherlock's eyebrow twitched in irritation, but he didn't comment. He swiftly turned on his heels, motioning for John to follow him. "We'll talk later Ravenclaw! Artemis speaks highly of you, you know!" John could hear the smirk in the Slytherin's voice. It took every ounce of willpower the boy had not to turn around and tell her to sod off. It was obvious they would never get along as long as they were at school.


	5. Chapter 5

Sherlock heaved a sigh, long and loud, as he lounged on the Gryffindor couch, staring at the fire. His talk with Alison had not gone over well, though he gleamed some useful information from the Slytherin. John, sitting in the arm chair close by, fidgeted with his robe and bit his lip. He was debating whether to ask his best friend about the talk, but didn't want to upset the Ravenclaw.

The snow outside had frozen to ice as the watery sun had sunk down. It was just cold enough for the majority of the students to be cuddled under their covers or huddling close to fires to warm their numb hands. Christmas day was approaching, tomorrow if Sherlock recalled the date correctly, which had many of the occupants of the castle with lighter hearts and happy smiles as they ghosted through in search of something to do.

The two friends sat in relative silence, only interrupted by the occasional Gryffindor approaching them. They were all older students; of course, most first years try to leave the castle for any holidays. It annoyed Sherlock, as he'd rather be anywhere but home.

"Hey, 'Lock?" Sherlock turned his head lazily to John, who was staring into the fire with a passive look on his face. "Do you think we'll be able to prove it was Blair?" He worried his lip, taking a quick glance at Sherlock before fixing his gaze back on the fire.

Sherlock pressed his lips together as he thought, mind filtering through thousands of memories and scenarios before settling resolutely on the idea that they would indeed prove it was the sixth year. "Of course John. We'll need some help however." Sherlock was dreading his plan as soon as he thought of it.

John leaned forward and studied his friend intently, eyes shinning in the firelight. "What are you thinking?" His voice was quiet, soft, much like the fire crackling in the fireplace.

"A plan." The bell tolled midnight, signalling the beginning of the twenty-fifth. John grinned like any child does when Christmas day comes around. He celebrated it as a child with his family, though the memories were often ruined when his sister stumbled in drunk. It was his favorite holiday. "Here," Sherlock muttered softly, handing a perfectly wrapped gift to John, who stared at it in shock. "We don't normally celebate it at my house, but you seem excited about it. Isn't that what friends do? They buy each other gifts?" His icy, gray eyes looked up at him in sincere puzzlement and curiousity.

John gingerly grabbed the gift, studying it curiously before tugging a present out of his bag and handing it to the startled Ravenclaw. "Open together. I didn't expect anything from you to tell you the truth."

Sherlock turned his head to the side curiously. At John's nod, he carefully ripped the green wrapping paper back to reveal a miniture detectives glass. His mouth fell open as he picked the item up and stroked it reverently. He launched himself across the couch and hugged John furiously, feeling overwhelmed with emotion in that moment. John stared down at the jumper with a huge smile and return the hug with the same amount.

"I must explain. That jumper also acts as an invisible charm. My own invention actually. It'll cover your whole body for up to three hours at a time." The Ravenclaw remarked proudly as John fit the snug jumper on. He blinked up at his friend with an amazed expression.

"You made it? I thought only seventh years had even the minimum of strength and knowledge required to create a spell, especially one like this." His voice was amazed. He had honestly never heard of a student below seventh year making a spell, much less one as powerful as an invisible charm. The boy sitting next to him was truly an amazing student and friend to have.

Sherlock sighed and bit his lip. "I've been learning magic since I showed signs when I was young. Father made me and Mycroft learn potions as soon as we could handle reading and setting ingredients right. I have extensive knowledge well beyond first year of advanced magic, though I cannot cast them. The only reason I have not been placed in higher years is my lack in transformations. I'm already working on my patronus and animagus forms." He smiled proudly. The Ravenclaw was well beyond the skill set in Defense Against the Dark Arts and Potions, though his older brother elected him to stick to first year classes to 'make friends.'

"That's bloody brilliant! I wish I was that advanced!" John's voice was full of praise and wonderment. He wasn't sure how he ended up with the Ravenclaw as his best friend, but he was sure he wouldn't regret it either. Though Sherlock could be downright cold towards anybody else in the castle, he had the kind of personality that wished to do good, and lacked the social graces every other kid grew up with. He didn't understand that telling somebody their partner is cheating on them is not considered kind, or that you should never mention an eating disorder out loud to the whole classroom. John reflected that was probably how Sherlock had grown up. His mother and father were probably distant themselves, which would explain both their sons behaviors. But, when hanging out with Sherlock alone, John saw a side to the sociopathic Ravenclaw nobody else did. The side with the warm heart and good intentions. "This is the best present I've ever gotten 'Lock." He added softly, admiring the scarlet jumper in the firelight.

Sherlock blushed and stared into the fire, detectives glass tucked safely in one of his pockets. "Goodnight John," the Ravenclaw sighed as he stood up, thin limbs somehow making the movement graceful, and ghosted towards the door reluctantly.

"Goodnight Sherlock, see you tomorrow." John yawned tiredly and retired up to his bed, snuggling into the jumper and falling asleep instantly.

"Why is it, Holmes, that you insist on hanging out with that mudblood?" Alison asked as she fell in step alongside the Ravenclaw. Sherlock sent the Slytherin a withering look, icy eyes sharp with weariness and hate. "I mean, someone of pureblood status should never be seen with that kind of filth." The girl contiued, undeterred by the glare she received.

"It should not matter who I am seen with Alison. Nobody considers me true pureblood anyway." Sherlock stated, walking slightly faster.

"A Holmes being anything but a pureblood? Oh the horror!" She pressed a hand to her chest and mocked a terrified expression. Sherlock stared at her wearily. "Oh, come on young Sherlock. You can't possibly find such good company in a mudblood. They're filth." She sneered, eyes screwed up against the idea of a pureblood and mudblood getting along.

"There's nothing wrong with John. He's at least more intelligent than half the seventh years. And he's got the wonder about magic so many kids have lost due to their pureblood status. We're told about this castle long before, but the 'mudbloods,' as you call them, have never heard of this magnificent, magical place." His voice dripped with sarcasm. The Ravenclaw turned on his heel and booked it to the common room entrance, mind still racing from the encounter with Alison and the present tucked safely in his robes.

Someone's feet thumped painfully against the ground and woke Sherlock from the little sleep he'd managed to get. He groaned and threw a pillow at Dylan, who chuckled and dodged with ease, pulling on a ratty t-shirt and making his way down to the common room.

The other Ravenclaw rolled out of bed with a yawn and followed his housemate, cursing the soft, morning sunlight and rubbing his ever-changing eyes. Christmas was looking grim as he headed downstairs. Their resident ghost, Helena Ravenclaw was floating in the middle of the room, discussing something with the seventh years quietly.

The first year snuck behind them, blending in with the morning shadows and listening with a careful ear.

"Rayley? You're sure?" One kid asked, looking over at her companion with concern and worry.

"She went missing last night Ky, I'm definitely sure." The boy responded, biting his lip.

"What are we going to tell her brother Ryan?" Another boy asked, looking slightly irritated.

A much softer, kinder and infinitely sad voice spoke amounst the bickering students. "We tell him the truth Damian. We must find out who would do such a thing to a sweet girl like Rayley."

Sherlock stood to the side, watching Lady Ravenclaw and the other students with excitement. Another murder! He had not thought Blair would be so stupid as to attempt one with so few students at the school. He smiled to himself as he thought about running to get John before being dragged to the blue fire by Dylan.

"Here, Artemis and I thought to get you something." A package was shoved into his hands before he could protest. Sherlock looked down at it curiously before turning it over and opening it up. Nestled among the tissue was a skull that they had somehow managed to find. Sherlock inspected it quietly, noting each tiny, imperfect detail on the smooth bone before smiling.

"This is perfect! Thank you." Dylan smiled and looked down, rooting through presents that had appeared underneath their tree quietly. He had each pile stacked before whistling to catch the other students attention. Sherlock slipped out of the room quickly, disappearing down the darkened corridors and heading to the owlry.

John sighed as he stared at Soren, who stared back with wide, golden eyes. His Christmas morning had been fantastic. His mum had sent him a present, and a letter about how his sister was doing. His father must've passed out on the holiday nog they bought every year. It was the first real letter he'd received from his mother. His head was swimming with constant worry and regret. He regretted ever agreeing to come to Hogwarts, regretted being a wizard. His heart almost felt torn in two. On one hand, he loved the magic, the wonders this world brought him. But, on the other, he resented the fact that it tossed him out of his only home, where he could no longer watch other his mother and sister.

"John?" The voice was deep and velvety soft, coming from the entrace to the owlry. The Gryffindor would recognize that voice anywhere. There was not another like it in the entire world, of that he was sure.

"Merry Christmas Sherlock," the eleven-year-old smiled slightly and looked over his shoulder to the Ravenclaw, who stood in the doorway in deep thought.

"Merry Christmas John." The other boy moved closer, smiling when his owl landed on his shoulder. "How's your mum and sister?" He asked after a moment, almost afraid to ask. It's not like he couldn't figure the answer out just by observing John, but he hated to do that to his only friend. Normally such things wouldn't bother him, which concerned the young boy slightly.

"They're fine. Or so Mum insist." John rubbed a hand across his face and stared at the parchment wearily. "Harry has run off with her girlfriend, so Mum's been getting the brunt of everything. Father is more heavily drinking than ever. I'm afraid Sher. I doubt she last the rest of the year." The dam holding his tears back fell and a sob wracked through his small body. Sherlock bit his lip, staring helplessly as his best friend broke down.

Before the emotionally distant boy could think, he had wrapped his arms around John and was holding him in a tight, but comforting hug and stroking his back in soothing patterns. "It'll be okay John, just wait and see." He murmured, letting the Gryffindor boy cry on his shoulder as the sun rose higher in the watery sky and Christmas day dawned new horrors upon the two first years.


End file.
